A long line. The men and a few women stood by the curb. It was 6 P.M. The man they called the sandwich or muffin man was late.He usually came at 5:30. There had been a snowstorm the previous day and the man lived upstate. Someone in the group said that the man was snowed in. Still, the people waited. One or two walked across the street to the area with seats. After a while, some gave up and left. The sandwiches he handed out once a week were a Godsend and the blueberry/chocolate muffins sweetened what was often a bitter day. Another day, next week. Then, he’d come again.
Archive for January, 2015
Outside Grand Central: A tall woman on the young side with a large and expensive, tourist-type camera. Her black boots went all the way up to her hips. A man with sandy hair and another camera. These two persons stood in front of the homeless man with his Beagle dog. The woman crouched in front of them, taking pictures from this angle and that other angle. The man took pictures of the man and the she dog from the other sides. Someone walking by observed the scene. Why is this happening? The man and the dog are not supposed to be on display for the pleasure of tourists. The observer watched the photographers for several minutes. Enraged as she was, she did not dare say anything. When the tourists were done, the observer walked behind them. Try as she might, she could not catch what they were saying. I wish I had the courage to tell them this is not right. I walk by the man and the dog often. Seeing how much he loves her makes me smile.I cannot give them a home, but I care about them. She is a sweet older dog.
The legs were spread out. Half the body took up the other 2 seats. The body was covered with a thick blanket; the happy colors–red, pink and green in the shape of a palm tree were those of a beach blanket. People got on the subway, looked at the body. At one of the stops, the head came out of hiding and read the name of the subway station. The man with the dark eyes and moustache wrapped himself again.